


baking is a serious thing

by bellamysblakes (puddingandpie)



Series: prompt fills [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, i have no regrets about this, none at all, oops i wrote a 4k baking au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingandpie/pseuds/bellamysblakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I used to be the best baker in the neighbourhood but then you showed up at Mrs Appleby’s 80th birthday with a stack of brownies which almost gave me an orgasm my honour is at stake and I’m going all out for the next event au</p>
            </blockquote>





	baking is a serious thing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Life Stories are Second Date Material](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557829) by [nymja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja). 



 

Bellamy Blake knew that he was the best baker in the entirety of Jaha, Arkansas. He had won state fairs, country fairs, even a few national fairs in his time. He could make a mean apple pie, and a totally amazing fruit cake, but his specialty was brownies, and everyone knew it.

 

Even Ms Appleby, the oldest lady in the entirety of Jaha, knew it. And that was the reason why she had requested that he bake a batch just for her 80th birthday.

 

And so poor, unsuspecting him turns up to Ms Appleby’s 80th, brownies in hand and a little sister drooling after him (or his plate of brownies), expecting just to walk in there to receive the grand prize of her eternal love for his brownies.

 

But no, she was already eating a brownie, pulled off of some unknown’s plate, and seemed to be happily munching away. And to make things worse, she didn’t even acknowledge that he had went to all this trouble just to make a batch of his special brownies. Instead, she just motioned to another table and said in a kindly little voice, “You can just put them over there, that’s a dear.”

 

So, being Bellamy Blake, he spent the rest of the party in a corner, brooding over the fact that his honour had just been totally destroyed by a plate of some unknown’s brownies.

 

And then, when he thought that it couldn’t get any worse than it already was, it did.

 

There was only one brownie missing from his plate. One! And he knew for a fact that Octavia was the one to take it. And when he had a look at the unknown’s plate, he found that all but one of the brownies was missing from her plate.

 

It was oh so tempting to leave it there, to use it as gloating material over the unknown, but it was even more tempting to try it, to see what all the fuss was about.

 

So, as discreetly as he could, he picked up the last brownie and wrapped it in one of the napkins beside the plate, deciding it would be best to eat it when he got home. And then the situation got worse entirely.

 

“Stealing one of my brownies are you?”

 

Bellamy spun around, a sheepish look on his face. “Can you blame me?” he said to her, not believing a word that he said.

 

She laughed at him, and Bellamy resisted the urge to laugh in her face as well, with all of his national titles and such. Instead of doing that, he accepted the girl’s hand, which had just been extended in a show of friendship, along with a name. “It’s uh, Clarke. Clarke Griffin.”

 

“Bellamy Blake.”

 

“Oh, the famous Bellamy Blake. I’ve heard a lot about you Bellamy Blake.” Clarke smiled this god-awful smile at him, the one that told him both everything and nothing at the same time. Right now, he almost wanted to punch her in the face, but he resisted the urge.

 

“And what might that be them, hmm?”

 

“That you are the best baker in town, and my brownies just stole your spotlight. Oh, and that we would make amazing babies, but that is beside the point.”

 

She laughed, and suddenly, Bellamy was seeing red, even though he didn’t show it. He had to remain calm, cool and collected, or else his _opposition_ was going to get some ideas about the best ways to rile him up, and most likely get him disqualified from the upcoming country fair. And he could not afford to get disqualified, because the prize money this time would be enough to keep the house and pay off some more of O’s student loans. He needed this money, but instead of punching her in the face, he just smirked at her.

 

“Your brownies are good, I’ll give you that. But they aren’t as good as they could be, not yet anyway. They’re going to need a hell of a lot of work if they stand a chance of beating my brownies at the country fair,” Bellamy said cockily.

 

“Beat **your** brownies at the country fair? That doesn’t even sound like a challenge,” Clarke countered.

 

“Okay then, if you’re so confident. I bet that I can win the country fair with my brownies, fair and square.”

 

“Oh yeah, what’s the wager?”

 

“No more brownies at any fair. Ever.”

 

“That’s a harsh deal. Are you sure that you’re ready to never bake brownies ever again Blake?”

 

“Are you princess?”

 

“I’m not the one that’s going to be losing, am I?”

 

“Oh I think you are.”

 

“Game on then, Bellamy Blake.”

 

“Game on, princess.”

 

He didn’t hang around long after the party, because he was itching to get home and eat that brownie that Clarke had made. When he walked in the door, he yelled out O’s name to see if she was home. When he got no reply, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the brownie, still wrapped neatly in its napkin.

_Well, here goes._

He took a small nibble from the corner, and all was well, until the taste really hit him. He felt his knees start to buckle underneath him, and he had to reach out to the nearby dining room table to steady himself.

 

Now he could see why people were raving about Clarke Griffin’s brownies. Just the experience of eating one was better than an orgasm.

 

The tastes of the brownie were amazing, mixing together cleanly and fluidly. The chocolate used didn’t taste like dark, but it didn’t taste like milk either. It tasted like something different, something interesting and wonderful. There was a hint of orange somewhere in there, and something that could very possibly be cinnamon.

 

This brownie was basically heaven on earth, and that was saying a lot, because he usually considered his brownies to be heaven on earth. How did this brownie manage to beat his divine creation? There were flavours in the brownie that he couldn’t identify, cinnamon maybe, or some other spice. But whatever it was, it was absolutely amazing.

 

And that was how he ended up here, hoping and praying to god that some stupid wager didn’t cost him his house, or worse, O’s scholarship. It would take her a hell of a long time to forgive him for that one, and it wasn’t probably going to be in this lifetime.

 

He had to stand here at the country fair all day for three days, manning his stall and selling a wide variety of baked goods. At exactly 5:00, Octavia would take over, and she would man the stall until the last batch of visitors had trickled out of the gates and she could go home. While she was manning the stall, he would be pouring over his oven and his mixer, whipping up cakes and pies like he was pulling them out of thin air, which he kind of was.

 

They had this routine down pat now, because they had been doing it for almost four years, using his baking as a way to bring in extra income so that they didn’t have to balance just off of O’s Etsy store, her part time job at Starbucks and his full time job at a crappy take-away place. There wasn’t much money in the Blake household, but they made it work.

 

Whenever they had to move around to another fair, O would take a few days off university and tune into the lectures wirelessly, using the free wifi from Starbucks or McDonalds, or if they were very lucky, the cheap hostel that they were staying in.

 

But now, he had to stand out here and smile all day at potential customers who always said that they were _just looking_ whenever he asked them if they needed any help. They always said they were _just looking,_ which was something that really irked him. Everyone just walked past and browsed all the time, no set goal in their heads, and he always wondered if that was something that was in human nature?

 

Once upon a time, he was a double major in Philosophy and Classics, so it was well in his rights to be wondering about that sort of things. It was something to pass the time here, and it worked well, especially when he combined it with reading some sort of classic, like Oedipus or Antigone. It was better than smiling at people, but he knew better than to read when there looked to be someone serious at the counter. That was a major turn off from buying his things.

 

And so now, he had to put his copy of the Iliad away, because there looked to be someone interested in his products snooping around his stall.

 

“Do you need any assistance or are you just browsing?” He said politely to the woman, who looked up and smiled at him.

 

“No assistance necessary. I’m just looking around all the stalls of our entrants. You’re Bellamy Blake right? I’m Abigail, one of the judges. You can call me Abby, if that makes you any more comfortable.” Abby stuck out her hand and Bellamy took it and shook it as firmly as he could, not wanting to make a bad impression on a judge.

 

“Nice to meet you Abby. It’s good to see that you are taking an interest in all of this, beyond what you are required to do, of course.”

 

“It’s funny you should say that, because I’m the one running the whole show here. My daughter has a stall here as well, so country fairs are just something that runs in the family,” Abby said, laughing more to herself than anything. “Well, I wish you all the best, Mr Blake.”

 

“Thank-you Abby,” he said politely, watching as she walked away. There was something very familiar about that woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

 

On the second day of the fair, he was still manning his stall and working his way through the Iliad again, when O arrived, almost two hours earlier than expected.

 

“What are you doing here?” he said, not looking up from his book.

 

“Um… I need you to do me a favour.” Whenever Octavia said that, it always meant bad news.

 

“What sort of favour?” Bellamy looked up at her to see a sheepish expression on her face.

 

“I might have accidentally told this really hot guy that I could bake and that I had a stall in the country fair so I was wondering if maybe I could say to him that this was a joint stall and that I helped bake some of it so that I could impress him enough for him to take me out on a date somewhere?” Octavia mumbled out, slurring her words together just enough so that anyone that wasn’t Bellamy wouldn’t be able to understand her.

 

“Fine.” He said, vaguely pissed off. “I can have a well-deserved break.”

 

Even though he was definitely in the mood for this break, there was nothing else to do at the country fair than to resort to doing something he hated, which was wandering around and browsing at all the other stalls, saying to them that he was _just looking,_ when really he was sizing up the competition.

 

It was obvious who had entered into the brownies event, because they always had a set of taste-test brownies on a fancy platter at the front. It was the same if you had entered cookies, or maybe cakes, because you would always have a taste plate available.

 

So Bellamy wandered around, stealing a piece of cake from every stall he could and as discreetly as he could, because no-one liked being bothered by people who weren’t potential customers.

 

He didn’t notice how many stalls he had passed, until he popped another piece of brownie in his mouth and his knees began to buckle underneath him again. The brownie he had just stolen had to be another one of Clarke’s brownies.

 

He backtracked a bit, till he walked past the busiest stall in the history of country fairs. People were flocking to it like a fish to water, and it was all because of the charismatic blonde that was behind the counter.

 

He stood there awkwardly, watching Clarke smile at person after person as they walked away from her stall holding a bag of brownies tied up neatly with a piece of ribbon. They all seemed to be a little happier when they walked away too, which unknowingly made him just a little bit happier too.

 

“Are you going to stand around there all day or are you going to come over and say hello,” Clarke said, the hint of mocking in her voice.

 

“What do you mean? I only just got here.” A blatant lie.

 

“Sure you did. I’m free for a bit now, my _friend_ is going to take over for me, aren’t you Raven?” Clarke reached over and grabbed a dark-skinned girl’s arm, pulling her behind the counter.

 

“Um…” Raven hesitated for a moment, making eye-contact with Clarke. They seemingly communicated solely through eye gestures for a moment, before Raven nodded at him. “Yes, yes I will be.”

 

Clarke whispered something in Raven’s ear and Raven returned the favour by whispering something else into Clarke’s ear. A crimson blush spread over Clarke’s face as she turned to Bellamy and sheepishly smiled.

 

“Do you wanna get a coffee or something?” She said nervously, something that seemingly was out of character for her.

 

“Uh yeah, why not. As long as you’re buying though,” he added, because he didn’t know if he could afford to buy a four dollar coffee from one of the expensive trucks that were parked on the field.

 

“Why Blake, your little stall not doing as well as you hoped?” She mocked, her confidence returning.

 

“I just like free things,” He replied, and her face dropped. She could see that he was trying to avoid the subject, and so she just dropped it. No questioning, no pushing. She just dropped it. And that told him a lot about her too, because there was something that was going on in her life that meant that she could sympathise with him, and even though he hated sympathy, right now it was good. It meant that they would both avoid all of those touchy subjects that they both hated other people talking about, and they would stick to small talk and other pointless conversations like that.

 

“So where are you taking me princess?”

 

“It’s a surprise. And what’s with the _princess_ nickname anyway?”

 

“You seem like one of those princess types?”

 

“What do you mean _princess types_?”

 

“Someone who looks prim and proper, never gets tired of anyone or anything, have had everything in life handed to you on a silver platter. I’m not saying that’s what happened in your life or anything, but you look like the sort of person that would have had that.”

 

“Well you’re not wrong.”

 

“What?”

 

“I have had everything in life handed to me on a silver platter, but that doesn’t mean I liked it.”

 

“Well, it’s probably better than having to work your ass of for the tiniest scrap of anything.”

 

“Can we not start this like this?”

 

“What do you mean, this?”

 

“I mean whatever this is. I don’t want to fight with you Bellamy. Please, can we just talk about something else?”

 

“Fine.”

 

Bellamy was stubborn to a fault, and he was curious to know why she didn’t want to talk about her situation at home, even though he knew that he was the one to bring up the conversation. Instead, because of that awkward half fight, he was subjected to the never-ending small talk about the weather and sport and politicians that he had to read into to find out things about Clarke.

 

Sometimes being an ex-Psychology major really came in handy.

 

They chatted for a while longer about pointless things, only ever discussing trivial things about themselves like their favourite colour and who they think should be the next President.

 

They never spoke about colleges, or who their friends were, or why their home lives were so fractured, and Clarke had obviously avoided enough awkward conversations that she could give an answer without really giving anything away.

 

At exactly 4:45, he said he had to leave, and Clarke accepted it, saying that it was probably time for her to let Raven have a break.

 

They parted ways, and the moment she was out of his sight, he immediately slapped himself on the forehead.

 

_God Blake, you are such a stubborn idiot. There was this really nice girl right in front of you, and you have to go and ruin it by being a prick and pushing about her home life. After this is over, you’ll probably never ever see her again._

The third day couldn’t have come sooner, and he had to leave Octavia manning the stall for almost the entire day because he had other commitments to run around doing. Surprisingly, this year he was judging one of the cake stalls, and so he had to run around filling out forms and making sure everything was running smoothly.

 

Abby was also there again, and she was extremely helpful in guiding him where he needed to go.

 

“You good to help out here Bellamy?” She would ask, and he would nod and do whatever it was that he was required to do before he moved onto the next thing.

 

He also glimpsed Clarke around a few times, who also seemed to be running around and doing the same jobs that he was. She was also talking to Abby a lot, but the conversation did not seem to be very pleasant, with Clarke seemingly wanted to get away from her. It was definitely not a relationship that was built on love and trust.

 

He busied himself in his other tasks, trying to keep him mind off Clarke, even though all he could think about was the bet that they had made because of her orgasm-inducing brownies, and the way that they had completely fucked up any chance of being friends because of the way he defined the nickname that he had given her.

 

But even after all the avoiding he managed to do, he still managed to find himself standing next to Clarke when the presentations came around.

 

“That bet still on?” He asked her.

 

“Of course.”

 

That was all the words that they said, as they called winners and runner up, over and over again. And then it was time to call the winners for the brownies, and Abby stepped up to the podium, envelope in hand. It was time to decide whether he would ever bake brownies for a state fair again.

 

“Third place, uh… Monty Green.” A scruffy Asian kid walked up to the podium, collected the trophy and the envelope, shook Abby’s hand and walked off.

 

“Second place, uh… Lexa Ground.” The same thing happened as a daunting looking girl with the most intense eye makeup she had ever seen walked up to the podium and smiled this haunting smile as she accepted her award and moved on.

 

“And in first place, we have… uh?” Abby paused, and Bellamy was instantly confused. The writing was always printed, just so that the judges could read it when they came to the stage. Unless the name was something extremely foreign, why couldn’t she read it? But that was probably it. Neither Clarke nor him won, because the name had to be something foreign.

 

But then again, Abby had faltered on all the names, not just the first place one. Why would that happen?

 

“And uh… first place for the brownies goes to uh… Bellamy Blake?”

 

His name. Abby had called his name. He had won.

 

He walked calmly up to the stage, collected his award, smiled for the camera, and walked off again, his stomach devoid of the elation that usually came with winning something.

 

He returned to his stall, sent Octavia on her way, and pondered what the hell had just happened. Clarke hadn’t won anything. He didn’t care about the bet though, because if Clarke never baked brownies again, that would be a crime to humanity. Her brownies were that amazing.

 

“You know, being a Psych major and trying to analyse another Psych major could quite possibly be the hardest thing ever.”

 

Clarke was standing there, leaning against one of the poles that held the stall upright, arms crossed across her chest.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s obvious you’re a Psych major, or ex-Psych major, because everything about you screams analyser. It’s all in the way you act.”

 

She was good, real good, probably well on her way to completing her degree, something that Bellamy never managed to accomplish.

 

“You lost.” That was all he managed to say though, because there was nothing else to say. That was a simple fact, plain and simple. She had lost.

 

“No. No I didn’t.”

 

“What?” He stated what he was thinking, because Abby had called his name, not hers. Why was she saying that she won?”

 

“I did what you did. I analysed you. From the way you baked your brownies to the way you interacted with your sister, I analysed you. It’s what all we Psych majors are born to do. And the more I analysed you, and your situation, the more I wanted you to win. So I rigged it, plain and simple. It was the only way I could guarantee that you would win. It was already rigged in my favour, though. I just had to unrig it.”

 

So she was a psych major then, just like him. Although he doubted that she was doing Classics as well, because that was an unusual conversation.

 

But instead of saying something witty and clever, he said the exact same thing that he had been saying for the past couple of minutes. “What?”

 

“You say that a lot you know?”

 

“Yeah, I know. It’s a place holder, you know? What we learnt in first year? It means…” She cut him off before he could finish.

 

“That you still don’t understand. Yeah I know, I took Psych too. My mother’s Abigail Griffin, you see, the judge of the brownie competition. You had no chance of winning, because she was always going to rig it in my favour. I know you saw us arguing, and that was all over who was going to win. She wanted me to win, and I wanted you to win. Plus, your brownies are better than mine, so if the competition was fair to begin with, you would have blown me out of the water.”

 

It took him a while to process exactly what she was saying. Her mother was Abby, the judge that had come over to talk to him. Maybe he would find out why she came over to talk to him. Was it her indirect way of telling him, a low-life man bordering on the wrong side of the tracks, to stay away from her daughter? Was it solely because she just really liked his brownies and wanted to talk to him?

 

But he focused now on what Clarke was saying, because that was important now.

 

“No way. Your brownies are orgasm inducing, so it most definitely would have blown me out of the water.”

 

“Anyway, in exchange for me rigging the competition in your favour, maybe you could call off the bet and take me out for coffee. Life stories are for the second coffee date, anyway.”

 

“It would be my pleasure. Shall we, princess?”

 

“Why not, Blake?”

 

So they took each other’s hands and walked off into the sunset, which could be considered the cheesiest ending ever. But this was no ending.

 

This was the beginning.

 

Plus, together, they could make the most amazing brownie to ever brownie, which would blow the minds of everyone that ever ate it. At least that’s what Clarke said. He was less hopeful, but he’d go along with it anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> i made a few sneaky references to my favourite bellarke fic ever. i linked it down below, and you should all go read it. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr @ belllxrke.tumblr.com


End file.
